As I Am
by gnbrules
Summary: And he loses himself to it, to the joy and the wonder of kissing her. But after, he starts to wonder, to doubt. He doesn't want to be the echo of another man. Blue Lincoln/Alt-livia.


**As I Am**

**Summary: And he loses himself to it, to the joy and the wonder of kissing her. But after, he starts to wonder, to doubt. He doesn't want to be the echo of another man. Blue Lincoln/Alt-livia. **

**A/N: New to the fandom and loving it! ****Anyway, this is just some romance with a little drop of angst, and a conversation I'm pretty sure would have had to happen in some form.**

It happens quite by accident and yet, somehow, inevitably. When it happens, they've had drinks though they are not drunk, and they're celebrating closing a case and the fact that neither of them are dead (it was close, so close he saw glimpses, not of his life but of missed chances). When it happens, it's her that kisses him, remarkably, but then again she's always been the one to put herself out there. And he loses himself to it, to the joy and the wonder of kissing her.

He's wanted to for so long.

It all goes quickly after that, clothes shed and twisted sheets, kissing and clashing and _love. _

It's love for him, at least. He knows where he is and who he's with and there's no place he'd rather be, but after – after, he wonders. Because her head is on his chest and his hand is still playing with her hair, but none of these parts are his alone, not even his name - the name she let out in a breathy sigh as they made love.

He shares it all, even that, with her past.

With her Lincoln, the one who has gone far beyond her reach.

Is that what she sees in him, he wonders. A ghost she can cling to, a ghost she can still touch?

He doesn't want to be an echo of another man, and this – this has already gone too far without knowing what she sees in him. The question forms and slides past his lips, even though he'd much rather fade to blissful dreams with her still in his arms than break the moment. Still, the words come.

"Does it bother you?" he asks quietly.

"What?" she asks back, and her voice is merely contented and curious, her hand playing idly along his chest.

He sighs wistful and resigned, and he doesn't want to, but he has to know. "Does it bother you that I'm not _your Lincoln_?"

The words are heavy around them and her answer is silence for what feels like the longest time. She readjusts herself to face him, and he _knows _he's tainting this happiness, damaging what should be a beautiful first, but he cannot prolong a broken heart. He's done it before and he knows better now.

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Holding onto him through you?" she asks, and it is not accusatory, but a sincere attempt to understand if that's how he sees the situation. It's also not an answer, he notices.

"I just want you to know," Lincoln says through fluttering nerves, "I'd...I'd understand. You guys were close and he's gone, but _I'm here, _and I...I'm a constant reminder, I know that."

"We never," she starts, waving her hand to gesture at him and the bed. "Nothing like this ever happened between me and him."

"I know, Liv. But it probably would have, if things were different, if he were still-"

She shakes her head at him, not vigorously, but with a firm resolution to the set of her jaw. "You know, me and him - we had a long time to fall in love, a lot of chances, a lot of moments. It never happened, and I think...I think that was for a reason. I miss him, I do, and I loved him as a partner, as family, as a lot of things. But I am not mistaking him for you, or you for him. I know who you are."

"And who is that?" he asks, and he himself sounds unsure.

Her hand goes to cup his face, and her eyes are clear and hold his gaze.

"Well, you're _not_ the first man I met with the name of Lincoln Lee, not the man that was my partner and friend for many years, not the friend I lost. But you are the man that was with me when we almost died today, the man who switched universes to find a new home, the man I kissed tonight knowing full well who he was...and do you know what that makes you?"

"A lucky man?" he ventures, and he's not quite kidding, but she chuckles at that nonetheless.

"Well, yes, but that's not the answer I was going for," she smiles. "That's what makes you _my_ _Lincoln,_" she says, "And I hope you never have cause to doubt that again."

He can see the sincerity in her eyes, hear it in her voice. It's a flood of relief and love, always love, and he'll store it in his memory, in his heart.

He puts his arm around her, pulls her towards him, and she falls back against him, her head to his chest, just above his heartbeat. Her eyes close and their breathing syncs together, in an even, calming rhythm. "I won't doubt," he murmurs to her hair, "as long as you're _my Olivia_."

She smiles against his skin. "Mm, I'm liking the sound of that."

"Me too."

And with that, he closes his eyes, ready for the blissful dreaming and the promise of waking up to something even better.


End file.
